In Your General Direction
by Meridian Vase
Summary: Gimli is having a hard time adjusting to life in Rivendell. Features all members of the fellowship and more.


**Chapter 1:**Gimli's Bad Day

Gimli was lost.

This had become apparent to Gimli over an hour ago. At the start of his journey, he had been attempting to locate the dining facilities. Now he simply hoped to return to his sleeping quarters. All Gimli knew was that he was somewhere in Imladris. It was not a helpful piece of information whatsoever. It was about as helpful as he was _somewhere_in Middle Earth. Even though Gimli had passed several elves who undoubtedly knew the various routes of Imladris by heart, he was loathe to ask any of them for help. Gimli was a dwarf. To ask anything of the elves would not only be an affront to his pride, but also a sign of weakness. He would sooner fall on his axe than willfully show weakness to an elf. They would probably lead him further astray for their own amusement anyway. Gimli refused to become their plaything.

Gimli, son of Gloin, was not a toy.

His stomach rumbled.

He was hungry.

Gimli growled his displeasure at the predicament he found himself in. He was not only lost, but now ravenously hungry as well. Gimli drew in a deep breath to calm his frayed nerves. It was unnervingly quiet. His stomach, however, broke the silence with yet another protesting rumble. This time, though, it was accompanied by a soft _thwack_!

Puzzled by this he strained his ears and listened. He could hear it again.

_Thwack! _

Gimli's curiosity now piqued and hunger momentarily forgotten, he followed the noise as it steadily grew louder in intensity. It lead him to a rather large, imposing hedge. He could hear the _thwacks_! coming from the other side of the wall of green. Casting his eyes to his left and then to his right, he observed that the hedge seemed to continue on forever in either direction. It became apparent to Gimli that he had to go through it. He was sorely tempted to hack it down with his axe, but he doubted Lord Elrond would be pleased by this action. Elves worshiped trees after all; they probably felt as passionate about their shrubberies, too.

With another low growl of displeasure, Gimli tucked his beard safely into his shirt. There simply was no avoiding it. He thrust his stubby fingered hand against the bush. _I am truly a fool today for the Valar's amusement_... and with that last thought he plunged forward. Gimli immediately found himself in a leafy sea of discomfort. Maneuvering through the hedge was not an easy task for a dwarf. A narrower body would have had it easier. Dwarves, however, were not narrow. They were broad chested and compact, which was perfect for mining and cave dwelling but not charging through hedges. The closely knit branches clasped at his body. Some of the more sturdier branches refused to give way, so there was more than a few times Gimli had to wrestle his body loose. This caused the hedge to erupt into violent shaking that served to dispel countless leaves free into the air. Luckily Gimli did not have to endure the irritating task of battling foliage for much longer before he was sent tumbling on to a field.

_Where am I? Durin's beard, now I am even more lost! Wait…what is that? It appears to be a targ--_

_**THWACK!**_

Gimli howled in surprise.

An arrow had struck him directly between the eyes. It, however, bounced off harmlessly. Gimli was fortunate enough to be struck by a practice arrow that had a rubber ball as its tip. Rubber ball or no, it made little difference to Gimli.

It still **hurt**.

Gimli blinked his eyes rapidly. His vision had become unfocused...and alarmingly fuzzy.

He could make out three figures..._or maybe it was four?_...rushing toward him. Gimli was finding it difficult to stand as a feeling of vertigo assaulted him. His legs gave out sending him crashing to the earth like a felled tree.

Gimli decided today certainly was not a good day. In fact, it had been a horribly bad one. He had been lost, hungry, and now attacked by flying objects. Gimli shut his eyes with a pained moan. He could feel the beginning of a splitting headache.

This day simply could not get any worse.

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